Dragoncrest Cliffs i could put my teeth on your throat—i could howl against your hair (mtr.)

The shiver at the Trigedasleng rattled down her spine and up into his belly; and then he was easing into her, the girth of him spreading and stinging. But she knew she would adjust to him regardless, like she always did; and it was that truth of being melded for him that made their couplings all the more delicious. "Comoara-" Her words were snipped off as he bottomed into her with a low, rolling thump; but she only pressed back further into him, a willowy hind stepping from the stone for a moment.

And then his hips began moving, incessant and incremental. For now, they were faint, almost soft, yet had enough strain in them to have her ass quivering every time his hips met it. Every reverent snap had her breath shivering out; every part of him that weighed her down, crowded her with him had her utterly aching.

Aure wasn't a fool, as much as she sometimes wished she was: breeding season or no, Verx was a frequenter of females. And why wouldn't he be? Dark, rougish, and full of abysmal charm, it only seemed his birthright to partake in the more beautiful things in this world. Beautiful home, beautiful she-wolves. He wasn't beholden to another, and... certainly not promised to her.

But he was home: that's what he'd become to her. And if these ardent unions, despite their unending fires, were to be the only instances where Aure could whisper to herself that he was hers; if taking his knot and simply giving all of this back, giving him her hidden heart and the love it could birth, then... it was enough. The thought, the fantasy of perhaps being worthy enough to be mated, to perhaps mother bairns that she'd never let herself to consider, concieve. The prospect of finally having some semblance of inner peace—all of it, from him discovering her brother, listening and promising and being there, always there wrenched a keen of "T-te iubesc--" from her soulful throat. 

Whether she was a body to him or no, it would always be enough for her. Always.

A particuarly carnal thrust had her slumping forward; but she rutted her boney hips back all the same, even as it tore a deep, choking moan from her. Her timid breaths turned into soft cries of his name as they staggered into something more impassioned; something just a little more rawer. She felt so taut around him, dragging him deeper with every seize of his hips. "Te rog, lasă-mă s-să te iubesc."